


Eyes Closed, Ears Open

by Right_hand_boi



Category: Transplant (TV 2020)
Genre: officer reid still sucks, shameless whump, sorry not sorry jed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Right_hand_boi/pseuds/Right_hand_boi
Summary: In which Jed is aware of everything going on during the pilot episode.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Eyes Closed, Ears Open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeftHandMan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftHandMan/gifts), [cozycatwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozycatwriter/gifts).



> Dedicated to my real-live human friends.  
> Thank you LeftHandMan for introducing me to AO3. Thank you cozycatwriter for being so rad.  
> Pssst… check out their stories!!!

Bashir Hamed doesn’t look like a doctor. But, then again, appearances can be deceiving.

“Do you remember me, sir?” he asks Jed. His eyes are wistful, yearning. Dreaming of a different life.

Of course Jed remembers him. Bashir Hamed. Bashir had applied for a job at York Memorial a few weeks ago. But he was too young, too inexperienced compared to the other candidates.

Inexperienced on paper alone. Jed had argued to hire Bashir; he had seen something that the others didn’t. But it wasn’t enough. After the interview, he had pulled the young man aside and had a long conversation about his experience off-paper. After some coaxing, Bashir had opened up about some of the things he’s dealt with: roadside amputations, working in pitch black rooms, treating patients while hiding from regime soldiers.

The conversation had ended with Jed informing Bashir that he hadn’t been hired. Bashir had taken it well.

Too well. He had handed Jed a business card featuring a restaurant and scribbled an email address on it, begging Jed to keep him in mind if there was another opening.

Jed had promised him that he would. But life had caught up to him, and he’d forgotten, throwing out the card that very day.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jed stares at Bashir. What should he do? If he acknowledges the young man, it could create false hope, and Bashir may believe Jed is here to recruit him. Then he’ll live his whole life, wondering if Jed will ever reach out.

He should pretend that he’s forgotten. It will hurt Bashir, destroy him. But it will free him from the “what ifs”. Bashir will give up on him and move on, maybe even apply again if there’s another opening.

So Jed pretends. “You made my dinner,” he responds to the hopeful question. Bashir’s eyes dim and he slumps, turning to face the window. But Jed notices his face twisting in anguish.

A lump lodges itself in Jed’s throat as Bashir takes a step away, defeated. _It’s for the best. It’s for the best_. So why is he crying? He rubs his face and his hand comes away wet.

Bashir whips around, eyes frantic. “Look out!” he yells, moving closer to Jed and standing in front of him protectively.

What a heart this man has. He’s protecting someone who had shoved him aside like he’s nothing, someone who had hurt him. Jed is touched.

A truck crashes through the window, shattered glass flying everywhere. The last thing Jed sees is Bashir desperately reaching for him.

Then everything goes black.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Pain. That’s all he knows. Where is he? _Who_ is he? He tries to think, but a piercing pain makes itself known, distracting him.

His head pounds, but not in the way that it usually does at work. This is something else. Something serious.

Jed forces his eyes open. He’s lying near a restaurant employee. The boss is groaning not too far away. Bashir is farthest away from him, thrown near a woman. She’s not breathing.

Flames roar and the whole building shakes. Jed’s eyes widen. His heart races. But he can’t yell to Bashir. He can’t move. He opens his mouth and lets out a strangled cry, desperately watching Bashir. _Wake up!_

But Bashir doesn’t move.

Jed cries out again, a primal cry of fear. His raspy voice trembles and breaks.

Bashir twitches, his face contorting in pain. _Yes!_ Jed cheers.

“B…ash…ir,” Jed gets out. He coughs. “B…ashir. Please…”

Bashir’s eyes flicker. _Come on, Bashir. Wake up. Please!_

Jed tries one last time. “Bash..ir. Th-they need you. I… need you.” He’s too drained to do anything else. The rest is up to Bashir.

His plea works. Bashir’s eyes fly open, rapidly taking in the situation. He lifts his shirt and removes glass from his abdomen, groaning in pain.

Bashir’s eyes scan the room. He stumbles away. _No, Bashir, please!_

Jed needn’t have worried. Bashir returns with a flashlight. He rushes to the woman and checks her airway.

He punches her chest. Hard. _Precordial thumps? Those don’t work often_. Bashir punches her again. She gasps, eyes opening. Bashir runs his light over her, looking for any other injuries.

“Can you breathe?” Bashir asks her. She nods and he moves on.

Jed takes this all in with awe. The young doctor is extremely talented in emergencies; his war-sharpened instincts let him examine each person as quickly as possible. He has obviously been trained in the devastating art of mass trauma, likely by force.

Bashir would be an invaluable addition to Jed’s team. Jed watches him closely, wondering if he can hire him on the fly.

Bashir approaches his boss, gently but firmly turning his head this way and that. He gasps softly and presses a hand to his abdomen when his boss hits the wound by accident. Then he shakes his head and continues the examination. Even injured and under extreme pressure, his mind is sharp. He is quick to discover the injury.

“Bashir… I… I can’t see,” his boss moans.

“Wait here,” Bashir tells the older man. He stumbles to the back, tripping over rubble the whole way.

He returns with a small pair of scissors. “You’re bleeding behind your eye,” he’s explaining. “If I don’t do this now, you’ll go blind. Hold still. I’ll try to make it quick.” Bashir inserts the tip of the scissors in the outer corner of his boss’s eye and snips, hands remaining steady despite the howl of agony emitted by his boss.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Bashir is fading; every breath is punctuated with a harsh cough. Jed worries for his oxygen intake. The young man covers his mouth and nose with the collar of his shirt and runs his flashlight over the room. But he doesn’t see Jed yet.

Summoning every last drop of energy, Jed raises his arm. _Please, Bashir. I can’t die here._

Bashir notices. He rushes over and Jed lowers his arm in relief. He is too weak to turn his head, so Bashir is sideways to him. Despite this, he inspects the young doctor as well as he can.

Bashir looks awful. He’s bleeding from a wound on his abdomen, and he’s coughing more than breathing. Bashir shines his light over Jed and pales. Morbidly curious, Jed wonders what he looks like to break even the strongest warrior’s calm.

“Sir. Sir,” Bashir says. “We can’t stay here.”

Bashir kneels down and gently prods his head in different places. Jed lets out a hoarse yell of pain as Bashir’s fingers brush against a wound on the right side of his head. Pain explodes outwards and his vision goes white for a second. Jed’s arms scrabble uselessly on the ground, instinctively trying to escape the pain.

Bashir leans closer, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He’s muttering lowly to himself, but Jed catches a few words. “Hematoma… fractured skull on the same side as a blown pupil…” Here, he shines the bright light directly in Jed’s eyes.

Bashir stares in his eyes, right down to his soul. “Sir. I’m not going to let you die here,” he promises, then stumbles away. And Jed believes him. Hope surges in his chest, and Jed lets himself believe.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The sound of rock grinding rock draws his attention. Bashir’s outline stands out starkly against the fiery glow of the room. In his hand is a power drill.

Jed is petrified. He lets out a terrified whimper, eyes wide, as Bashir approaches. He knows that this is to save his life, but he can’t help but try to shuffle away. Bashir sits on his waist to hold him down.

Bashir sets the drill down for a second and meets his eyes. “Sir, you have an epidural hematoma. If I don’t relieve the pressure right now, you’re going to die.” His eyes are intense. Jed whines, beyond terrified. “Sir, I’m not going to let you die here.”

Bashir lays a hand on Jed’s cheek to calm him and tries a different tactic. “I know what I’m doing, Jed. I promise. Do you trust me?” The use of his name calms Jed somewhat. He stops struggling. Bashir notices and smiles softly.

Jed nods slightly. He would trust Bashir with his life, which he’s doing now. Bashir squeezes his hand. “Be brave, Jed,” he whispers. Then his eyes harden in determination.

The power drill whirs and approaches Jed’s skull. As its tip touches his head, a strangled scream of agony rips from his throat. Jed spasms under Bashir, trying to buck him off. But Bashir holds firm, not letting him escape.

“It’s okay, Jed. We’re almost done,” Bashir comforts him. He’s too busy screaming to notice.

Jed sobs once, too far gone to care how he looks. Bashir gently hushes him, hands steady on the power drill. Jed sags in exhaustion, too drained to keep fighting.

The blinding pain stops, and Jed takes a second to process the absence of it. Bashir brushes a tear away from his face with bent fingers and smiles gently. “You’re all done, Jed.”

Then he apologises. _Huh?_ The agony returns as Bashir firmly presses a dirty cloth on his head to stem the bleeding. Jed howls and fights against Bashir’s strong hold.

Dimly, he is aware that Bashir is talking to him. He bites back his screams and listens. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We need to stop the bleeding. Do you hear the sirens? Help is on the way. It’s going to be okay, Jed.”

Bashir shifts and pulls Jed onto his lap, cradling him like a small child. His hand holds the cloth to the wound. Bashir whimpers almost inaudibly as Jed brushes against his wound. Jed apologises, but Bashir brushes it off.

He starts to choke on the smoky air. He stares down at Jed, a wild look in his eyes. Jed knows this look. He had seen it many times in violent patients right before they succumb to sedatives and lose consciousness. Bashir only has moments left. He sways.

With the hand not holding the cloth, Bashir reaches down and yanks at Jed’s shirt, untucking it. Jed lets out a startled breath. Bashir clumsily unbuttons the bottom two buttons and pulls desperately. A large section of the shirt rips and Bashir brings the ripped fabric to cover Jed’s mouth and nose.

Jed is floored. Bashir is moments away from collapsing, and he decides to treat a complete stranger instead of himself.

Bashir coughs even harder, his strong hold slackening. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I can’t do anything else. I can’t help you.”

Bashir topples backwards, bringing Jed down with him. The bloody cloth falls to the floor, forgotten. Bashir’s limp hand rests on the makeshift mask, keeping it pressed to Jed’s face.

The sirens are deafening now. Footsteps approach and voices call out. Jed lets his eyes close, knowing that they’re finally safe.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jed has no idea how much time has passed when he regains consciousness. Well, regains awareness. His eyes are glued shut. He can’t open them no matter how hard he tries. He can’t move. He feels locked in his own body.

He’s in a bed, that much he knows. There’s a paper-thin hospital gown on him instead of his clothing. A bandage is tied around his head, the soft gauze irritating his scalp slightly. Jed wishes he could reach up to scratch the itch.

An annoying beep nearby tells him that he’s still alive. Heaven wouldn’t be this irritating, would it? Maybe Hell would be.

He’s not alone for too long, thank goodness. The automatic door whooshes open and a light breeze wafts over him as somebody approaches.

A chair screeches on the floor and the person sits down.

Judging by the mumbling, it’s Mags. Jed silently listens to her as she breaks down his injury. “The Burr hole drains the hematoma, but you can’t be certain of the diagnosis without imaging,” she’s saying. “Yeah, a blown pupil’s an indication, but…”

“What does that tell you, doctor?” Mags asks herself in an awful impersonation of Jed. She doesn’t even try to use an accent.

“You looked at your eyes in the mirror?” she muses.

_Wrong. Try again, doctor,_ Jed mentally replies.

“Or that, more likely, somebody looked for you.”

_Better. Keep talking._

The chair squeaks as Mags leans closer, the ends of her hair tickling Jed’s arm.

“Someone who’d be willing to take a power drill to your head.”

_There you go, Mags. Well done,_ he congratulates her. _Now, think even deeper. Who was with me? Who was right next to me?_

Mags mumbles to herself, then gasps. “Bashir Hamed. He was found right next to you. He must be a doctor. He saved a kid tonight.”

_He saved a kid? Yeah, that sounds like something he would do. He listens to his instincts._

Mags continues, “He treated Alice. He tried to tell me in the trauma bay, but I didn’t listen!”

_I probably wouldn’t have listened either. Don’t beat yourself up, Mags._

“I have to find him!”

_How hard can that be? Just look in his room._

As if she heard Jed, Mags chuckles humourlessly. “It’s harder than you would think. He keeps trying to run away.”

_Did you ask him why? There’s always a reason for people’s behaviour._

She doesn’t answer his silent question. Instead she grips his hand and squeezes. Jed wishes that he could squeeze back.

Mags leans closer, her lips against Jed’s ear. “Please wake up, Dr. Bishop. The department needs you. I need you.”

_I’m trying my best._

Mags goes silent and sits with Jed. Gossamer fingers run over his bandage then down his face. Mags rests her hand against his cheek for a long moment. Jed tries to lean in. He’d do anything for her to stay. Anything so he’ll be connected to somebody, not just floating in darkness by himself.

Then again, he can’t blame her for leaving. She has a job to do. Mags is much like him in that way. That’s not always a good thing. Jed vows to talk to her about that if -when he wakes.

Mags leaves, and Jed mourns the loss of companionship. He’s stuck with his thoughts. He goes over his life. What he regrets. What he can’t change. What he can. What he’ll do differently when he wakes up.

His thoughts drift to Jonah. His precious son. Jed wishes he could go back and spend time with him. He’d shoved Jonah away to work and that’s his greatest regret. Gone is Jonah’s childish smile as Jed bear-hugs him. Gone are Jonah’s trusting eyes. Now the eyes are angry. Hurt. Is it too late? Did Jed scar his own son too deeply? Is forgiveness even possible?

Tears sting Jed’s eyes, and one seeps through his eyelashes, trailing down his face. Another tear falls. Then another. The tears irritate his face.

Someone else comes in. A soft hand holds his. Vanilla wafts over to him and he immediately recognises this person.

It’s Claire. Beautiful, strong, perfect Claire. The woman he loves.

_I messed up, Claire. Big time. I don’t know what to do._ Yet another tear slides down his face. _I’ve let down so many people. Jonah. You._

Claire scoots closer. “Oh, Jed,” she breathes. “It’s going to be alright.” She gently wipes his face.

“I’m here for you, Jed. Please don’t cry.” She kisses his brow, her soft hair brushing against his neck.

More tears run down Jed’s face. But they’re not his. Claire rests her forehead against his, nearly silent sobs escaping her lips.

_Oh, Claire. Please don’t cry._ Jed wills himself to move. _Move, damnit._

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Something within him releases. His fingers twitch. Then his arms. Jed cheers internally, flexing his hands to regain control.

Jed opens his eyes slowly. Claire’s face is so close to his own that he has to cross his eyes to see her closed ones. Her tears drip steadily on his face.

Slowly, jerkily, he raises a hand to wipe her tears away. Claire’s eyes shoot open as his knuckles brush her cheek, shock and joy in their depths.

“Jed!” Claire gasps, covering his hand with her own. She backs up until Jed can comfortably gaze into her watery eyes.

Jed opens his mouth, a breathy moan catching in his throat. He tries again. “Cl…aire…”

“Hi,” she says, sitting on the edge of his bed and lowering their linked hands.

“Tell me… Am I too late?” Jed gets out. _Can I fix things?_

Claire’s eyes soften. “You are lucky to be alive. You get a second chance. You should think about how you’re going to use it.” _Yes, you can._

_How am I going to use this second chance? I’m going to hire Bashir. I’m going to see Jonah._ Jed’s eyes flick to find Claire’s. _I’m going to love you like I always should have._ None of these vows are spoken aloud. Jed stores them in his heart.

Claire stands to leave. Jed whimpers softly. He’s not ready to be alone.

“Claire. Stay?” The drugs have loosened his tongue. Both of them know he would never say that otherwise.

Claire sighs shakily. “I’m sorry, Jed. I wish I could.” Jed sags, which Claire notices. “I’ll check in as often as I can.”

She darts back to peck Jed on his brow. “Welcome back, Jed. It’s good to have you back.”

Then she’s gone.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A while later, Jed is sipping on ice water that Claire had brought, savouring how it soothes his parched throat. He sighs, letting himself relax against the pillows.

June and Mags enter. He continues taking sips of the water, quite enjoying how they glance at each other awkwardly.

The straw sucks on air. Jed lowers the cup. “Proceed.”

Mags rattles off her patient’s information, barely taking time to breathe. As Mags describes a mistake she made, June cuts in and defends her.

Jed beams inwardly. Yes, competition and rivalry helps to push someone forward, but teamwork and trust is so much more important.

“Congratulations,” he drawls. “You saved a life.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “ _Go save another._ ”

They glance at each other and head out. Claire raises her eyebrows at Jed and he sighs, flopping his head on the pillows as she smirks.

Then she too departs, leaving Jed alone with his thoughts again.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

He’s alone for a while. Just as Jed is considering making a run for it, Claire pops her head in. She plops into the chair and grabs his hand.

“Claire, is there a Bashir Hamed here?”

Her brow wrinkles. “Yep. He’s been… difficult.”

“How so?” Bashir doesn’t seem like the type to scream at doctors or nurses. If that is so, Jed won’t hire him.

“He kept trying to run away from the hospital. He finally succeeded. We don’t know where he is. You should know that the police suspect him for the crash.”

Jed goes silent, pondering this. “He wasn’t part of the crash, that’s for sure. Bashir was with me when the truck crashed. Can you tell that to the police?”

Claire’s eyes widen. “Jed, what do you remember?” she asks urgently. “Nobody understands what happened tonight.”

“Everything.”

“ _Everything?_ What happened?” she enquires, leaning in.

“Why don’t you sit in for my statement with the police. They’re taking statements, yes?” Claire nods. “Then I won’t have to repeat myself.”

She pats his hand and heads out to fetch an officer.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

She returns with an Officer Reid. Cold eyes rake over Jed warily. _Is this the officer looking for Bashir?_ Jed wonders. _No wonder he ran. Can’t blame him. This guy is terrifying._

Claire seats herself on the bed and Officer Reid claims the chair.

“It’s been quite a night,” the officer begins. “Can you tell me what happened? Especially anything related to Bashir Hamed; he’s a suspect for this crime.”

Jed bristles. “Bashir didn’t do this. He was right next to me when the truck crashed.” Claire turns to stare at him, hanging to his every word.

“He may know the driver, then. This could have been planned,” Officer Reid argues.

Jed snarls. “Even if he did plan this, why the hell would he be in the damn restaurant?”

Officer Reid doesn’t back down. “Sir, all we know is that Mr. Hamed kept trying to run away from the hospital. He’s gone now and he doesn’t want to be found. There’s got to be a reason for that.”

Jed sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll tell you what happened. But Bashir is innocent. I know it.

“It was around 9:00, I think. I had gone out to grab a bite to eat that wasn’t hospital crap. I went to the restaurant where Bashir works. He was at the front counter, and he took my order.”

Jed wracks his brain and gasps, turning to Claire. “He had to pick up someone named Amira. Kept checking his watch.”

Claire stares at him with wide eyes. “Maybe that’s why he kept trying to leave.”

“That’s probably where he is now,” Jed concludes.

The officer doesn’t seem convinced. “What else happened?”

“He came up to take my plate.” Jed stretches the truth a little here. He figures that it doesn’t matter whether or not the officer knows that they know each other, and he doesn’t want to embarrass Bashir. “He was facing the window. He dropped his plates and yelled ‘Look out!’

“Bashir reached out to me. He tried to protect me. Why would he do that if he had planned it? Then the truck hit.

“I woke up first. Everyone else was still unconscious. Then Bashir woke up and… he treated everybody. He restarted a woman’s heart. He fixed his boss’s eye.”

Claire mouth drops open. “He must be a doctor,” she states. “Thank goodness he was there.”

“Yes,” Jed agrees. He turns to Officer Reid. “Then he came for me. He looked over me. And then he went out back.

“He returned with a drill. Bashir assured me that he knew what he was doing. He asked me to trust him. And I did.”

“Wait, he drilled a hole into your head?” Officer Reid cuts in. “He could have killed you! What if he planned this?”

“He. Did. _Not_ ,” Jed snaps. “He ripped my shirt to cover my mouth and nose right before he passed out. Bashir Hamed is _innocent!_ He saved me and everyone else.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Bishop.”

“Dr. Bishop,” Jed corrects. “This is my department.”

Officer Reid’s radio squawks. A voice comes on, saying that Bashir has returned to the hospital. He rushes out.

Jed turns to Claire. “Could you bring Bashir to me before he’s discharged? I need to have a word with him.”

“Of course.” She nods and leaves to check in on her patients.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

An eternity passes.

Finally, Claire returns with good news. “Do you want me to get Mr. Hamed?”

Jed nods. Then he waits.

There’s a knock on the door before Bashir pokes his head in, carefully scanning the room before entering. A young girl is cradled to his chest. Jed raises his eyebrows.

“Amira was afraid that I’d be taken away, so she begged to come with me,” Bashir explains.

They two men stare at each other, taking in every detail.

Bashir is wearing a different outfit. Did he run home at some point?

Jed breaks the silence. “My name is Jed Bishop, though you know that already. Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” Bashir humbly replies, carefully shifting the girl in his arms. His face twists in discomfort as she presses against his wound.

Jed’s eyes flick to her. “The girl with you… your daughter?”

Bashir’s eyes cloud in sorrow. “My sister,” he corrects softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Long night?” Jed starts. The young man nods. “Did we fix you up, at least?”

“Yes,” Bashir answers. “Perfectly, thank you.”

Jed chuckles. “Take a seat,” he tells Bashir, beckoning him over.

Bashir carefully sits, hushing Amira as she stirs. She settles again and snuggles closer to her brother.

Is he making the right decision? They start talking about the patients of the truck crash. Jed observes how Bashir’s eyes light up as they discuss how he treated each person, the passion that enters his voice. Yes. Yes, he is.

“I’m sorry for running earlier,” Bashir apologises. “I had to pick up Amira. But I had no way of reaching her. She ended up bussing home alone. And then she came to the hospital, where we found each other.”

“Where were you supposed to pick her up from?” Jed questions curiously.

“An ESL class. She goes most evenings, and I _always_ pick her up.”

Jed smiles fondly. “She’s got quite the dedicated brother.”

Bashir swallows. “She has nobody else,” he whispers. He strokes her hair.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

Jed leans forward, suddenly serious. Bashir blinks in confusion but leans in as well.

“We have met before, of course. When I interviewed you for a job, but then didn’t hire you,” Jed says.

Bashir nods miserably, curling in on himself.

“But… I think we need to do it again.” Jed watches Bashir closely, seeing the exact moment his sentence is understood.

Bashir sits up straighter, barely breathing. The hope in his eyes humbles Jed. He savours the look, encoding it to his memory. He knows it’s only going to get better from here.

“So… Tell me a little about yourself.”

A breathtaking smile works itself on Bashir’s face. He kisses his sister’s brow before turning to Jed and opening his mouth.

Bashir Hamed doesn’t look like a doctor. But, then again, appearances can be deceiving.


End file.
